“Sure,” replied Lafe. “His angels’ve got charge of him, all right.”
“I was wondering something,” ventured the girl, thoughtfully. “Couldn’t we take him in the ‘Happy in Spite’?... Eh, Lafe?”
Lake looked at her in surprise.
“I never thought of takin’ anything dead in the club,” said he dubiously.
“But he’s happy, you said, Lafe?”
“He’s happy enough, yes, sure!”
“Then let’s take him in,” repeated Jinnie eagerly.
“Let’s take ’im in, cobbler,” breathed Bobbie, pressing forward. “He wants to come in.”
They lifted the cover of the basket, and there in quietude the barn-cat was sleeping his long last sleep.
Jinnie lifted one of the stiff little paws, and placed it in Lafe’s fingers. The cobbler shook it tenderly.